


A Break

by Plaant



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Gen, Jesse Faden Deserves a Break, Non-Sexual, Not Beta Read, Post-Game, Self-Reflection, Showers, Stress Relief, graphic depictions of brutalist architecture, headcanon dump, not in a sex way though, respectful depictions of the female body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plaant/pseuds/Plaant
Summary: Jesse finally gets to take a fucking shower.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	A Break

**Author's Note:**

> a short unbeta'd drabble i wrote because i A.) am gay for Jesse and B.) wanted to contribute something to this tiny tiny tiny fandom.

Jesse slammed the door and fired three shots at the camera perched in the corner. The device exploded into a satisfying cloud of sparks; there were cameras _everywhere_ in the Oldest House, and Jesse wanted some sense of privacy for once in her goddamn life.

She tossed her gun on the floor, where it continued to shudder for several seconds before falling still. As useful as it was, the artifact still creeped the hell out of her.

Jesse took a moment to survey the room she'd just locked herself in: it was practically a closet, blank and concrete. But by god, it had a _shower_ , and that's all Jesse was really after.

The House had no shortage of toilets and sinks, but aside from the decontamination station near the mold pit, this was the first shower the bizarre shifting halls had presented her with. It wasn't a particularly _nice_ shower — more like a tiny stall of cheap frosted glass, alongside a mirror, sink, a towel rack, and metal toilet — but Jesse was learning to take what she could get.

Jesse took a moment to stare at herself in the mirror. Admittedly, she didn't look great, though the harsh fluorescent light wasn't doing much to help: her red hair had become oily and mussed; dark circles were developing under her eyes; what little makeup she put on originally had long since been smudged or rubbed off. She'd taken a few restless naps since arriving, out of necessity — mostly in chairs in Central Executive, having been exhausted to the point of collapsing. How long had she been here? A day? A week? 

Jesse shook her head, discarding the question — the House ignored the confines of space; attempting to understand how it functioned within time was surely a lost cause. Sighing, she pulled back from the mirror. 

She turned around in place several times, not quite sure what she was looking for. The door was locked, and the room wasn't big enough to require a search.

The camera was gone, but the feeling of being watched persisted. Jesse had felt it her whole life, between Polaris and the Bureau's interest in her, but it was undeniably amplified within the building. Perhaps it was the Board, or the Hiss, or something about the Oldest House itself. Whatever it was, Jesse figured she needed to get over it.

She undressed cautiously at first, but quickly turned to haphazardly tossing her clothes into piles on the ground. The concrete was cold against her tired feet — thank _god_ she'd worn comfortable shoes — as she removed her underwear and unhooked her bra. Her hair hung around her shoulders, and Jesse wondered when she'd next be able to get a haircut. 

Jesse stepped into the cubicle and studied the controls. Her eyes narrowed in frustration. It was one, single, unlabeled rectangular knob built into the wall. The showerhead was equally inscrutable, a gray pyramid aimed at her face, daring her to turn the knob the wrong way.

She took a deep breath. If she could defeat evil incarnate, surely she could figure out this aggressively brutalist water fixture. Bracing herself, Jesse turned the knob thirty degrees clockwise.

Nothing. 

Counter-clockwise?

No dice.

Exasperated, she pressed the face of the rectangle.

Jesse swore loudly as she was doused with freezing water. She scrambled blindly for the knob; ten seconds of trial and error later, the water was finally hot.

Shower successfully deciphered, Jesse located the available soap on a corner shelf of the stall. It was in a nondescript white plastic package, simply labeled "8-IN-1".

Jesse couldn't fathom what eight things could possibly be combined into one bath product. Soap, shampoo, conditioner...facial cleanser...shaving cream? Toothpaste? Leave it to the Bureau to ruin soap packaging.

She tore the wrapping off to reveal a pure-white bar of...whatever it was. A tentative sniff revealed that it was lightly floral scented; Jesse appreciated the lack of strong perfume. Rubbing the bar between her hands quickly produced a lather. Hoping the 8th-in-1 wasn't industrial-strength cleaner, Jesse worked the lather into her hair.

It was remarkably pleasant. The soap foamed as she ran her fingers through her hair, easily loosening the harsh tangles. She scratched at her scalp, just enough to dislodge dead skin and get the soap to her roots. 

Jesse watched the dirt and grit from her hair wash down the drain, carried by bubbles. Leaving the soap to settle in her hair, she continued by washing all the makeup from her face. She'd never much cared for makeup anyway.

For the first time since arriving at the House, Jesse let herself relax. With the relaxation came the realization of just how damn sore she was; every muscle in her body ached. Nothing like running for your life to build muscle, though she was more muscular than her street clothes let on, with strong arms and thick thighs.

She massaged the twinge in her right shoulder, stretching her neck tenderly and letting the hot water relieve the tension, before carefully mirroring the action on her left side. Rubbing more soap onto her hands, she got to work cleaning the rest of her body. She lathered her arms and as much of her back as she could reach, and was momentarily mesmerized by the spiral the suds created as they circled the drain. 

Jesse generally didn't shave, more out of habit than anything else, though she had no real desire to start. Her body hair felt somehow more important now that she was scraping through fights every fifteen minutes — she wanted to have as much of _herself_ available as possible. She scrubbed her tufts of red hair thoroughly, appreciating the roughness and hardiness of her own physical body. 

The damage from her encounters was much more visible now that she was naked. Dirt and ash washed off easily, but bruises and bullet wounds did not. Killing Hiss healed her to a large extent — broken bones, blood loss, and organ damage were thankfully fixed nearly instantly — but the cosmetic damage took longer. Her torso especially was covered in bruises, varying from purple to yellow. Surveying her body, Jesse counted four visible recovering gunshot wounds, dark and discolored. How many times had she been shot in total? Not that it really mattered.

Jesse washed her torso and between her legs, enjoying the steam and warmth down her spine and front. She rinsed her hair, running her fingers through the wavy red locks, happy to have it smooth once again.

Though her shower routine was now technically complete, Jesse stayed under the hot water. It was invigorating and calming, cascading down her back, over her curves. Who knows when she'd next be able to have a proper shower?

She took the opportunity to work out a few more knots in her neck and back, and to rub out the soreness from her arms and legs. Her hair hung in loose wet waves around her face and shoulders.

And of course, Jesse took the opportunity to think. About...a lot of things.

She was still wading through a mess of tangled memories; she couldn't tell where reality ended and interference from the Hiss began. How long had she been Director? How long had she been at the Bureau? Who had truly been holding the gun that shot Trench? How long had Dylan been involved? Her head started to swim with red. _You are a worm through time.The thunder song distorts you..._

Warmth rose in her chest, blossoming into a fractal spiral and clearing her mind once again.   
"Thank you," Jesse murmured aloud, to whatever piece of Polaris remained within her. Something she could only describe as love pulsed through her in response.

Jesse desperately wanted to pass that feeling through to Dylan. Cleanse him. Bring him back. But even that thought made grief settle heavy in her chest.

She let the hurt wash off of her, imagined it running down the drain with the sweat and dirt from her tired body. The tension eased, and Jesse stayed like that for awhile, just standing under the hot water; letting the steam kiss her skin and remind her that — at least right now — she was real.

After some time, Jesse stepped out of the shower, unbelievably refreshed; she felt like she'd washed off five pounds of ash and dust. Some of the soreness in her muscles had been alleviated, though she made a mental note to stretch more often. The knots in her back weren't gone, but at least lessened.

As she dried with the provided shitty rough white towel, Jesse noted that her clothes had somehow been washed and folded. She was certain nobody had entered the room since she'd entered, and chalked it up to the House's tendency for correcting things the moment her back was turned.

Cleaned and dressed, Jesse returned to the mirror. She had no makeup to reapply, so she put her hair into a simple ponytail, enough to keep it out of her eyes. No point in working it into a fancy up-do while she still had Hiss to fight. Besides, it wasn't like she had any reason to look fancy; the Board certainly wasn't in the business of appearance-based compliments.

Just as she was about to leave the small bathroom, Jesse paused. The House was — theoretically — alive in some way, maybe even sentient. Feeling a little foolish, she gave the solid concrete a gentle, reaffirming pat.

"Thanks for the, uh, amenities, I guess," Jesse said, glancing around at nothing.

The following building shift, swallowing the room back into dimensionless walls, seemed just a little bit happier at the recognition.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! you can follow me on tumblr at plaant.tumblr.com


End file.
